“…she had in mind the dead as well as the living.”-In Cold Blood

A lot of dead lately, and death. Cards of condolence. The island has been rocked by the passing of four-or is it five-residents, the youngest nineteen, in a car accident, naturally. The driver is the son of a good friend, and fortunately survived. I have tried to contact but I hear he is camped out at the hospital, in the intensive care unit. God. It must be awful. And now a mystery, a teenaged girl missing.

Walking the dogs this morning, I was annoyed to find SamIAm had killed a duckling. Poor thing. Out of its element. Sam can never catch them in the water, they just calmly swim away, but this little guy was on the ground; there was no way he could out run my maniac dog. I dashed over to the sound of frantic quacking, pulled Sam off, hoping the creature was okay. I tried to pick it up but it was all floppy. Its neck must have been broken. I leashed Sam, took him back to the house, returned to find the thing dead, all the while a helicopter hovered above, searching for Jodi Henrickson missing since last Saturday, a girl from Squamish who hasn’t been seen since attending a house party over here. Now I wonder as I watch turkey vultures circling, could she be dead? I hope she will be found safe and sound somehow. I feel for her family, what a nightmare.

Wind picking up, skies are clear as I bask in a spot of solitude, recovering from hosting three days of Junior’s annual School’s Out/Summer’s In party and entertaining seven 14-year old boys. They ate a Continue Reading »

DIVERSIONS

Learn how to eat a kumquat.
Watch giant sink holes
chow down on suburban family homes,
or floods that force
a Fargo wedding party to improvise.
Giggity Giggity Giggity!
Bird dog with Glenn Quagmire,
noxious as hound’s-thistle
or do it yourself.
Right single-handedly
Dial-A-Lover.
Get a second life.
Come out.
All aboard
the tattoo parlour car.
Fly your freak flag
out the window.
Evolve by gradation,
colour or tone, your choice.
Master effervescent technology.
Ride a ride.
Tilt-A-Whirl,
tumult on the horizon
causing you to retch.

Please, let me know what you think.

THE TOWN SLUT’S DAUGHTER

by
Heather Haley

part one / girls with guitars

I Am Not A Nice Girl

I am not a nice girl
Nice is never enough
I may not be an ugly girl
but that’s how this world
can make me feel

You say I’m so selfish
You say I’m so ambitious
You say I’m so angry
All I can say is . . .
So what!

I am not a nice girl
but boy, am I real
I will not behave
the way you think I should
I will not become
what I mean to you

CHORUS

chapter 1

The girls shove their way in, through a huddle of scary punk rockers. They remind Fiona of soldiers, only their uniform is a black leather jacket swathed with studs, safety pins, chains and badges.
“Grist for the Windmill?
“Aren’t we all?” Shannon hands her a ticket. “Yeah, it’s a ratty little club.”
They stroll the length of a long hallway, murals on both sides pulsating with ghastly colours, contorted faces.
“It’s freezing in here.”
“Don’t worry. There’ll be lots of body heat in a minute.”
Fiona looks worried, startled at her eyes gleaming in a glut of mirrors. Bell-bottoms. Peasant blouse. Long, blonde hair. Yep, she looks like a wimp, like a puffball floating too close to the spikes and big, black boots, so close to the stench of dying hair she might puke. She backs up, grabbing Shannon by the arm.
“I don’t belong here.”
“Okay, so where do you belong?”
“I don’t know!”
Shannon shakes her head wearily.
“Oh, alright, let’s go.”
A rising wave of guitar distortion crests—blasts—through double doors like a medicine ball. A shock of spazzing centipede legs creep up the back of Fiona’s skull.
Music? It’s fast! LOUD! So fucking loud her spine stiffens. Then, she hears a voice, wailing.
“Is that English?”
Shannon laughs. They grope along a wall, DOA sonics smacking over their ears like claps of thunder. They grab a beer and Continue Reading »

I am always happy to wake to birdsong! Blessed.

I am much amused lately by the hummingbird feeder and the Rufous Hummingbirds. I have avoided hummingbird feeders in the past probably because they are usually quite garish but the other day while buying seed at Wild Birds Unlimited I found one that is like a box. They have the loveliest things in that store, it’s hazardous to my wallet to shop there. Anyway, this feeder is simple, sublime and pretty, really like a Jewel Box as it is called. Of course it requires more assembly than I thought so I just Continue Reading »

VELOCITY

Tremulous leaves quiver
but barmy birds eye
pistachios, fooled
by the flying V disciple’s
green skin peeping out
curling red pants of shell.
Crutch free at last
he climbs sunward,
higher than any other
for a glorious hour
of ecstasy,
whooping hubris
before seeping sap loss,
Icarus molting,
plummeting boughs.
A Helios thrill killing.
Winking navel
above the fork
must heft life up,
out, of the maelstrom.

from BUSHWHACK

by Heather Haley & Tina Schliessler

I just walked through some woods on our property that I haven’t been in before. We picked out a spot for our gazebo, overlooking the pond and adjoining creek. It’s lovely, veiled by spruce and cedar boughs, the white noise, music of rushing water close by. My first opportunity to blog in a while, so going back in time . . .

Saturday, May 9, 09

At the Magnolia Hotel, in the morning, with Pete, after driving down to Victoria yesterday from Nanaimo, after crossing the water on the big boat. In our element, it would seem. He’s happy to see his old buddies Jim Christy and Robert Priest and Trevor Carolan at the reception for the Pacific Festival of the Book. We had a hell of a time finding the church hall where it was being held, my bag of books and computer weighing me down. I met Richard Olafsun of Ekstasis Editons, my new publisher, who explained that he “likes to embrace chaos.” Should I be worried? In any case, he’s a friendly fellow; I’m encouraged that we’ll be able to work together on Window Seat.

Sunday, May 10

We were planning to leave after our readings at the Mothers Day gathering today, went over to Centennial Square after a reunion and brunch with my old girlfriends Solly and Jenn to find the usual confusion. No one seemed to know when, or even if, Pete and I were slated to read. It was cold, windy and our butts were still smarting from three hours in a church pew the previous night. We just looked at each other and Continue Reading »

Man, I am being slayed by springtime allergies or else I have a flu. Oy. Ugh. Urf. Had to lie down most of the afternoon. Seems to be the season for writing conferences too. I just attended the BC Federation of Writers AGM and conference, now preparing to go to the Pacific Festival of the Book in Victoria this weekend, driving down with my buddy, poet Pete Trower on Friday. I’m going to do a couple of readings and meet my new publisher, Richard Olafson of Ekstasis Editions. I’m also looking forward to seeing some old friends. I used to hang out with Solly Reeve in the punk rock scene. She now runs her own design business, Zola. Jenn McLennan and Nathaniel Poole worked with me at the Edgewise ElectroLit Centre in the 90s. Things got hairy at the demise of the organization but Continue Reading »

I was disappointed by the low islander turnout for our Purdy Trust fundraiser but received some encouraging words from my film producer friend Fitch Cady. He wrote this on the local Bowen Island forum:

“Fabulous indeed. Many missed it, due to the sunny Sunday perhaps. The gathering was in Heather & Josef’s living room which is perfect for events like this. If we are lucky enough to have more events in this venue, do not be intimidated. It is worth the cross island drive and has a big enough space to gather and perform in and Heather works very hard at bringing these things together.

Canada’s poet laureate George Bowering, and poets Pete Trower and Jamie Reid were there from the continent. These guys who are major published Canadian poets, who all know each other and Purdy for years, standing up and reading at the mike in a living room on Bowen! Like where else in Canada would we be so lucky? Maybe Berkley..

And the island’s own published poets. Heather (poetry activist - I call her) performing her rhythmic poems set to music, and Bernice Lever describing an encounter as a poetry groupie with Purdy in a sleazy downtown hotel - fantastic, believe me, and Lisa Shatsky reciting from memory, with her usual direct candor, a homage poem to Purdy, that has been accepted by The New Yorker. This was a very hip event. I was thrilled to be there.”

Man, I can’t believe how bloody hard it is, seemingly, to make a bloody blog entry. It’s been weeks! I suppose that means I have no time to reflect, just go, go, go. (I just got a new white leather chair and this is the first time I’ve had a chance to sit in it for any length of time. It’s quite modern in design and the back curves around, kind of hugs you. Me, I mean. I think I like it.)

This will be brief for I am still recovering from the Al Purdy A-Frame Trust fundraiser Josef and I hosted on Sunday. I’m not sure why exactly, or how, but preparations took over my life! It was a lot of work and I’m more than a little disappointed in the turnout. Actually the turnout wasn’t too bad—the head of the trust Jean Baird said there was an event in Toronto recently with over 100 people in attendance that didn’t raise a dime— but there were more Vancouverites here than Bowen Islanders, which I find hard not to take personally. I’ve been a resident on and off since 1993 and at times feel like an outsider even after all these years. Oh well, everyone enjoyed themselves, the weather was glorious and we managed to raise awareness and a bit of dough for a great cause. Al Purdy was one of the contemporary Canadian poets my high school English teacher gave me to read, one that I could relate to with our shared working class roots.

I attended the Verse Map of Vancouver launch last week with a friend who was actually being a pain in the butt, hurrying me along all evening and Continue Reading »

Listening to Miguel Migs playing Bump Selectra, a dub selectra mix on the Beat Blender play list on Soma FM, recalling the meeting Josef and I had with the RDI consultant this morning. It was a fairly productive meeting though I suffered a headache the entire time. We need to work on Junior’s non-verbal communication skills. Less talking on our part as well, so that he is forced to reference, check in with us. An over-reliance upon words keeps him in his own head in a sense. It’s so frustrating that he was misdiagnosed and not identified as ASD until age 10! He was prescribed years of speech therapy which turns out to be the last thing he needed. Vocabulary does not equal communication. We want him to look at us before talking, before launching into a topic. It is imperative for him to shift his attention to the person he is interacting with. Get in his face, literally, is what we need to do. There are techniques like pausing until he references us, feigning incompetence and doing something unexpected. All these things force him out of his static thinking mode. Our objective is to help him develop flexible thinking and dynamic communication.

The fun never stops! As we all recover from our fabulous AURAL Heather performance enthusiastically recieved at the Violet Femmes 2 compilation showcase, I now must focus as well on a grant application for the next week, for the Canada Council Spoken Word and Storytelling program. I want to write up a proposal for a Continue Reading »